


Humming

by mademoisellesansa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Because I really love that game~, Drabble, F/M, One Shot, Romance, Tragedy, Transistor inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellesansa/pseuds/mademoisellesansa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Aka Sansa is really Red from Transistor)</p>
<p>"Hey Little Bird, we're not going to get away with this are we?"</p>
<p>Places mean nothing without the people you love. A woman without a voice and a man without a body, but she has a plan. Sansa always does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humming

**Author's Note:**

> I don't truly mean to write the Targaryens as evil - anyone who has played Transistor will pick this up immediately - it's more a case of playing around with the idea that a little madness plus a lot of good intentions can be a recipe for disaster. (I've also come to terms with the fact that this may be one of those situations where everything fits so perfectly for me, but it takes a dedicated fan of both fandoms to understand)

_Winter is coming._

She feels it in her bones, sees it written in abject fear on the faces of those around her. Sansa pities them. Sansa envies them.

“Little Bird,” his voice pulsates from the sword in her hands, “Little Bird, we’ll find the Targaryen bastards that did this and we’ll fix things.” She smiles. Hums a response. Suspension between life and death had somehow turned her surly Hound into a chatty optimist. Maybe he found some pleasure in watching the entire system he hated finally go fuck itself. Maybe he clung to words and optimism because, without a body, what else did he have left? Maybe he did it for her, guessing at her thoughts and trying to give them a voice. She didn’t ask. Couldn’t.

She trusted them. They were so beautiful, the Targaryens, like creatures out of Old Nan’s legends, and they came with Jon, who looked so much like her lord father. Cousin or brother, he was ( _is_ ), her last living blood and oh how she wanted to trust him, to believe him.  _Little fool_ , Sansa thinks spitefully. 

“What did they hope to achieve? Not much point to being the one sitting on that ugly chair if there’s no one left to obey you. Always heard their kind was crazy. Sick bastards.” The heavy blade hums with his indignation and Sansa opens her mouth to laugh. Nothing. Only a sad, choked sound like fractured wind. “I’m so sorry, Little Bird. They took your voice." 

They came for an alliance, Jon told her. The Targaryens and Starks, uniting their voices in a song of ice and fire, restoring peace to the realm. He had a gift for her, he said, something he could only show her in private, a secret for the two of them. She shouldn’t have dismissed her guards. She shouldn’t have led him down into Winterfell’s silent crypts as if he were still a Snow, still a Stark. But the prospect of a shared secret brought alive her memories of snowball fights in the courtyard, of sneaking from lessons to play at swords, of whispered laughter in the corners of Winterfell. Not between her and Jon, never between her and Jon, but with Bran and Rickon, Robb and Arya. She thought he felt it too, the bond of like to like, last of their pack. 

"Have you thought about where to rebuild? I’ve heard stories about Highgarden’s roses. Or the Vale? You lived there for a bit didn’t you? Good place to get away from it all. As for King’s Landing,” a pause, “Just burn the fucking place down.” She shakes her head and pats the hilt. Rebuilding Highgarden won’t bring Margaery back. A new Eyrie won’t revive Sweetrobin. Places mean nothing without the people you love. “Oh. Fucking silly of me. It’s Winterfell isn’t it? It was always Winterfell.” She smiles.

Ice lay quietly in Jon’s hands. Her breath caught, she was reaching out for it tentatively, more surely, then everything happened so fast. Jon’s hands, driving Ice towards her heart. Screaming, being pushed aside, a flash of light, still screaming, but nothing is coming out. She didn’t know where she was, but she felt the winter in her bones. Then she saw him, a strange, disreputable looking sheath for a Stark sword. Cold and dead, or maybe that was her heart. Until she heard his voice.

“Hey, Little Bird, we’re not going to get away with this are we?”

Perhaps they will.


End file.
